


Apathy

by Leif Writes (FrankensteinsMomster)



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Apathy, Depression, Other, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Short One Shot, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28024179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankensteinsMomster/pseuds/Leif%20Writes
Summary: It was three pm and he was laying in bed. Not that the time particularly mattered. He didn't have anywhere to be. No one to see. No pressing matters to take care of.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Apathy

It was three pm and he was laying in bed. Not that the time particularly mattered. He didn't have anywhere to be. No one to see. No pressing matters to take care of. It was just him and the bed for an undetermined amount of time. 

He had gotten up earlier to use the restroom, eat some toast, and swallow his medication. It stuck in his throat and burned slightly but he was already halfway to his bed and wasn't going back to the kitchen for water now. Putting that much effort into anything right now was out of the question. 

He was depressed. Apathetic. Lack of energy. Lack of sleep. Lack of any sort of desire whatsoever. He could feel it down in his bones. It was a casual sort of suicidal thought. He didn't want to kill himself, he just wanted to disappear. Just for a while. Or a bit longer than a while. 

He was just so tired. He'd felt this way before. He would feel this way again. It was inevitable and it was exhausting. He just wanted to sleep but even then he gained no rest. It passed the time at least. Sort of. 

It had been two weeks since Gil had called him in to help with a case. He wasn't sure he'd actually be able to make himself get out of bed if he got a call right now. He didn't even know where his phone was or if it was charged now that he thought about it. 

It had been four days since he showered. Standing upright took too much energy. And if he went to the shower he'd be forced to walk by the mirror. Even if he ignored it he knew he'd catch sight of himself out of the corner of his eye and the self-loathing would start rolling in again. He'd be forced to see how pathetic he was. How weak. Every flaw, every scar, every similarity between himself and his father would scream at him until he forced himself to look away.

He felt like if he could just cry or scream or something that maybe it would bring some relief but there was nothing. He just couldn't bring himself to take any sort of action. That would take effort. That would mean he cared and he knew he was far beyond that. 

He wasn't worth the time. He was nothing. Eventually, he would fall asleep. Maybe he'd feel better when he woke up. Maybe he wouldn't. 

It didn't matter.


End file.
